


The fearful are caught as often as the bold

by CoffeeWithConsequences



Series: Paper Tigers [5]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Exposure, Inception Bingo, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 09:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15312609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/pseuds/CoffeeWithConsequences
Summary: Pushing Arthur's boundaries a little bit further each time, Eames takes him out for a post-job drink and issues a challenge.





	The fearful are caught as often as the bold

**Author's Note:**

> My first Inception Bingo story! I have a mixed tropes/kink card, and this is for "exposure/exhibitionism."
> 
> This story takes place in the [Paper Tigers](https://archiveofourown.org/series/985980) universe, but it's not necessary to have read the other stories to make sense of this one.

Arthur had an itch under his skin. The last few weeks had been endless--the kind of job that provided neither the excitement to make time pass quickly nor the intellectual difficulty to make it seem a challenge. It was done now, thank God--funds deposited and mess cleared away--but the the feeling remained.

Working with Eames felt different than it used to. Arthur was rarely tempted to do anything that would betray that they were fucking, at least not to anything but the most sensitive observer, but Eames’ presence still put him just slightly off. He’d begun to catch himself noticing Eames’ hands, the way he held a pen or gestured. It was a small thing, but it was a thing.

Today, as they finished clearing out the workspace, Eames made no effort not to track Arthur with his eyes. He hadn’t said a word, but Arthur could feel the weight of the stare, couldn’t help but wonder where it led.

Arthur was in tune enough to realize that Eames’ was not wholly comfortable with their games. What had started out as a curiosity for him, not just sleeping with Arthur, but seeing this other side of Arthur, had become something more. Arthur wasn’t sure if Eames was tiring of it, or if he was concerned about his own excitement, or if there was something else going on. Eames had made no real advances during this entire job--something new since they’d started this all up. Arthur wondered if that meant it was over, and he felt the itch under his skin again.

Arthur was considering just asking. Much as he relished the control he gave up when he was with Eames, he had no qualms about speaking up for himself, about demanding an answer if he felt he was owed one. But something kept him quiet. He wanted to be sure that Eames wasn’t about to surprise him.

As it turned out, keeping quiet was smart. As Arthur was zipping his bag shut, Eames appeared at his elbow, as he had many times before. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going out.”

Arthur frowned. “Out where?”

“Don’t ask questions.” Eames was already headed toward the door.

The “where” turned out to be a large, dark, loud club. It wasn’t the type of place Arthur liked at all. It wasn’t a queer club--the couples on the dance floor seemed mostly to be college students, boys with stupid shirts dancing too close to girls holding fruity drinks. The music was bad. “What the fuck, Eames?” Arthur yelled over the din.

Eames turned toward him and smirked. “Awful, innit?”

“Fuck yes. Why are we here? Are we trailing somebody?” Arthur had wondered since they came in the door if this was actually a work thing and not a sex thing. He was going to be really disappointed if that was the case. Now that they were off the job officially, he let himself watch Eames’ body as he walked in front, his wide shoulders and rounded ass, the thick back of his neck.

“No.” Eames said shortly, weaving through the club patrons as if they weren’t there at all. He turned again and the disco lights played off his wonky teeth as he smiled. “I just like to see you in places where you don’t belong.”

Arthur considered that. He certainly didn’t belong here, his suit and his posture out of place. Even if he’d been in his club clothes, willing to dance, he’d be out of place here. He’d wait and see what that meant.

When they got to the bar, Eames ordered drinks without consulting Arthur. Vodka tonic, a safe choice. Arthur drank silently, watching the dancers, trying to figure out the plan. He didn’t have to wonder long.

“Here’s what is going to happen,” Eames said. His voice was normal volume, his mouth held right next to Arthur’s ear so he could make it out. “We’re going to play a game. You’re not allowed to leave this shithole until you win. Understood?”

Arthur shivered a bit and nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said. “What are the rules?”

“You have to bring two people to orgasm,” Eames said. “It has to happen within the walls of this club.”

Arthur turned to Eames with a raised eyebrow. “Can they be me and you?”

Eames smiled. “Tricky. Nope. Self-care doesn’t count.”

Arthur considered. “But one of them can be you?”

Eames grinned again. “If you can convince me, yeah.” Then he turned and walked into the crowd, disappearing into the bodies while Arthur watched his back.

Arthur thought for a moment. As always, he could refuse. He could just leave and let Eames stay here and wonder where he’d gone. Not much fun in that, though. He scanned the crowd. It wasn’t as if he didn’t think he could find someone here to get off in the bathroom. His eyes flicked over faces and bodies. He smiled to himself. He had to hand it to Eames, this was pretty brilliant--coming straight from work, forcing Arthur to manage this task without being completely out of his job persona, coming to a club that felt so foreign. The man did know how to issue a challenge.

It took about ninety minutes for Arthur to meet the first half of his objective. Enticed by the second part of the proposal--having to convince Eames--he wanted to get the first out of the way quickly, so he used a direct approach. He danced for a while, watching the people around him until he saw enough to identify a likely partner, the only guy in a group of what appeared to be frat brothers who wasn’t all over the girls they were with, who was looking around as he danced, after something other than what was on offer. Arthur moved in on him slowly, dancing close enough for his body to be felt, but not so close that there was no plausible deniability. From there, it took only a few words in the man’s ear, a raised eyebrow, and a walk to the men’s room.

Arthur ended up enjoying the first round more than he’d expected. It had been a long time since he’d hooked up in a bathroom, especially one in a non-gay club. The student he pulled was extremely enthusiastic and grateful, if a bit confused at Arthur’s not wanting any reciprocation to the hand job. Arthur didn’t explain what he was doing, but did tell the kid that he could do better, and deserved better, than these kinds of scraps. Still, it was oddly satisfying to give him a thrill.

As Arthur left the men’s room, he wasn’t terribly surprised to find Eames leaned up against the hallway wall, smirking. “How was it for you, love?” he purred.

“Not bad, actually,” Arthur replied. “Might have to do that again, rather than making you my second.”

Eames didn’t appear perturbed. “Be my guest.”

For a moment, Arthur considered it, if for no other reason than to wipe the smirk off Eames’ face. He knew Eames, though, and doubted it would work that way. Somehow, he’d be the one to end up unsatisfied.

“So,” he said, moving into Eames’ space against the wall, “how’s this going to work? We going back in there?” he tilted his head towards the restroom.

“Do you really think it’s gonna be that easy?” Eames asked. “I told you, you’re going to have to convince me.”

Arthur thought a moment. “Come on,” he finally said. “Dance with me.”

On the dance floor, Arthur looked around, gauging the people around them and the potential dark corners of the club. It was impossible to say how much leeway would be given here. He ground back into Eames as he considered the options, noting the faces of the other dancers around them. A few eyebrows went up. Not hostile, maybe, but not exactly welcoming a floor show.

Eames looped an arm around Arthur’s waist and pulled him back even closer. “I can see your wheels turning,” he murmured. “And if you’re thinking these assholes don’t want to watch two guys fuck on their dance floor, you’re probably right.”

“Are you looking to get arrested?” Arthur muttered, tilting back his head so Eames could hear him. “Because that’s not how I went to spend my evening.”

“Agreed,” Eames responded. “Guess you’ll have to be more creative.”

A few ideas ran through Arthur’s mind, none of which seemed likely. Finally, he noticed a stairway, half-hidden behind the bar, leading to a balcony jutting out over the DJ’s booth. It was dark, probably some kind of storage area, but completely visible to anybody who bothered to look up from the dance floor.

Eames watched Arthur’s eyes. “Distract the bartender,” he ordered. “I’m going first.”

It took a couple of false starts and near misses, but Arthur and Eames were both pretty good criminals, and the got themselves up to the balcony without too much trouble. It was, as Arthur suspected, storage space--dusty and full of boxes. “Come here,” he ordered, pulling Eames by the hand until the stood against the railing, overlooking the dance floor. It was dim enough that their faces were probably not identifiable by any curious dancers below, but their outlines were clear. “Do you want me to jerk you off?”

Eames shook his head. He pulled Arthur flush against him and kissed him, hard, cupping both hands around his ass.

Arthur relaxed into it, occasionally opening his eyes to watch the dance floor below as they kissed. He thrust toward Eames experimentally, looking for and finding the hardness in his trousers, then reached down and wiggled his hand between them, stroking the length of Eames’ cock through the fabric. Eames let him, focused more, it seemed, on dominating the kiss and pawing at Arthur’s body than on Arthur’s hand.

Finally, Arthur pulled away, panting and flushed. He had no idea how long they’d been kissing, rubbing their bodies together, but it was certainly long enough to draw attention from below. He looked down, but didn’t see any gawkers. He reached for Eames’ fly. “If somebody heads up here while I’m on my knees, you’d better warn me.”

Eames laughed. “I’m the one with my cock out, darling.”

Arthur slipped to his knees. Eames moved to force Arthur’s back against the railing. Anybody looking up would have a very clear sightline and know exactly what Arthur was doing.

As soon as Arthur wrapped his lips around the head, Eames pulled his fingers through Arthur’s hair and began to speak. “They can all see you, you know,” he said. “All those straight little college students down there, they could just look up and see you on your knees for me, sucking me down like a slag.” He chuckled. “Do you think your new friend from the toilets would be jealous? I bet all he got was a hand job.”

Arthur pulled off for a minute. “Are you going to narrate, or are you going to enjoy this?”

Eames grinned down at him. “Who says I can’t do both?”

Smirking bastard, Arthur thought. He turned his attention fully to the task at hand. He’d wipe the smirk from Eames’ face.

Arthur gave great head. He knew he gave great head. Many, many people had told him. Eames himself had, more than once. So he put his full effort into this particular blow job, sucking down hard, then coming off to tease just the right amount. He’d spent enough time up close and personal with Eames’ dick to know what would be the most effective. It didn’t take long before Eames’ grip in his hair was tight, forcing his face down further.

Eames kept up his banter, but the words started to get farther apart, sometimes drifting off completely mid-sentence. Probably without intention, he switched from the teasing and name calling he’d started with to flattery and praise. “Jesus, Arthur, look at you. So good. Your mouth looks so good around my cock. Your throat is so hot.” Arthur wasn’t generally one to go in much for praise, but it felt good, knowing he was knocking Eames out of his intended plan.

Arthur’s concentration on what he was doing made it easy to forget where they were, or how visible. Suddenly, Eames’ hands in his hair weren’t just tugging, they were pulling hard, pulling his head away. “Get up,” Eames hissed. “We’re about to have company.” Looking as if he was trying to suppress a giggle and holding his trousers closed with one hand, he pushed Arthur toward the back of the balcony, behind stacks of boxes.

As the blood stopped rushing in his ears, Arthur heard the footsteps on the stairs. Shit.

“Is somebody up here?” There was just one voice, just one set of shuffling steps. “Come out, if you’re up here. This balcony isn’t very safe.”

Eames and Arthur were quiet, Eames arm strong around Arthur’s waist. Arthur couldn’t help himself and let his hand drop, so it just barely brushed across the front of Eames’ trousers, where he was still rock hard. Eames didn’t make a sound, but squeezed Arthur’s waist.

The tentative footsteps came closer. “Damn kids,” the voice muttered. “Horny little bastards.”

Arthur and Eames both stifled giggles and waited.

It would have been possible to see them, crouched behind a big box, if the owner of the footsteps had bothered to come any closer. Instead, he stood a few meters away and cursed. “If you are up here, come on down before this whole fucking balcony collapses,” he ordered. “And go straight out the front door--you’re not welcome in this club.” Then he turned on his heel and stomped away.

Arthur and Eames remained hidden and quiet until there was no more sound of feet on the stairs. Then Eames chuckled softly. “Guess someone saw,” he said.

“Like that wasn’t your intention,” Arthur grumbled. “Now how are we going to get out of here?”

Eames tightened his arm. “We’re not,” he said. “You haven’t won yet.”

Arthur turned toward him, not really able to see his face in the dark, but incredulous. “That wasn’t close enough for you? I already told you I don’t want to end up arrested.”

Eames chuckled again. “You can finish back here, I suppose,” he granted magnanimously. “Get those fancy trousers all dirty.” He let go of Arthur so quickly that he stumbled backward, catching himself against a box. “Get on your knees.”

As he always did, Arthur momentarily considered refusing. But he didn’t want to, really. He sunk to his knees and felt his way back to Eames’ cock, still half-hard and spit-slick. “There you go,” Eames murmured, rubbing his thumb against Arthur’s bottom lip as he took it in. “Mmmm...that’s good.”

Arthur intended to get back to his previous rhythm and finish Eames quickly. The threat of being caught was hot, no doubt, but enough was enough. Eames wouldn't allow it. Every time he got close, he pulled out and waited, then made Arthur start again.

“Goddammit, Eames,” Arthur muttered, chasing Eames’ cock where he’d removed it, then being held back by a heavy palm. “I can’t do this if you won’t let me.”

Eames chuckled. “There’s no fun in making it easy for you, Arthur.” He paused, then continued. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll cooperate and let you bring me off, if you do it to yourself, too.”

“What?” Arthur looked up at him, confused. “I can’t suck my own dick, Eames.”

Eames reached a foot forward and nudged it between Arthur’s thighs, to where he was straining against his trousers. “Come in your pants while you suck me,” he ordered. “I’m not going to let you finish me until you do.”

Arthur groaned. He was so hard, and so ready, but the last thing he needed was for the escape they were eventually going to need to make from this balcony to be further hindered by having come all over himself. “Goddammit,” he said, knowing even as he said it that he’d do exactly as Eames said.

When Arthur returned to Eames’ cock, Eames left his foot, still in its dirty shoe, against Arthur’s crotch. Arthur let himself go, thrusting against it, then moving his body closer and using Eames’ shin. “There you go,” Eames cooed. “Humping my leg like an animal. Not so put together now, are you? You go around all buttoned-up, looking like nothing could fluster you, but you get this way for me. Suck my dick and hump my leg in a club full of strangers. Let other people fuck you while I watch. Get tied up and wait for me for hours. You’re a filthy, needy little bastard, Arthur. Show me how much you need it.”

Arthur moaned low around Eames cock and swallowed it, ignoring the tears in his eyes and the blood in his ears as his oxygen cut off. He pushed his cock insistently against Eames’ leg, feeling his orgasm rise and not trying to hold it back. When he came, his hips pumped forward of their own accord, and he forced his mouth open so far it hurt, letting Eames thrust hard a few more times and then empty down his throat.

Eames held himself up against the wall as he breathed through the last of his orgasm, watching Arthur on the floor in the half-dark. Arthur was panting, trying to get his breath back, one hand against the crotch of his pants. Eames couldn’t see it in the dark, but a wet patch was spreading there, through the cotton of Arthur’s underwear and into the wool of his trousers. He’d complain, later, about the dry cleaner. It was worth it.

When Arthur finally pulled himself up to his feet, he reached for Eames’ hand. “So, did I win?”

Eames nodded. “You won.”

“Good. Now how the fuck are we going to get out of here?”

**Author's Note:**

> Please come visit me on [Tumblr](https://coffeewithconsequences.tumblr.com/) or read the rest of my fic here at [Archive of Our Own](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/works)!


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